I F*cking Hate You

There is a Puddle of Mudd song which I happen to adore entitled “She F*cking Hates You.” That is the title of the song and pretty much makes up most of the lyrics. Despite what you are thinking, it is a great song.

Sometimes I sit down at the computer and wonder which part of my day I should write about. The good, the bad, or the pathetic. Today there was so much to write about I pondered for about thirty seconds. The answer was just too easy.

I talked to the children today about you. I am worried that your four year old won’t remember you. I am worried that as time passes she will forget or that her memories of you will become fuzzy. I personally don’t remember anything from when I was four – but I blame college for that. So I talked to them about starting a daddy journal. A book that we could write stories about you or memories they have of you or pictures they want to draw of you. It went really well. They were both excited about it and I was relieved. I took it a step further.

At bedtime tonight I read them a story called “I Miss You” a book my friend brought over for young children dealing with death. At one point the book says that it is OK to feel sad and cry. I reiterated by saying that crying is really OK and important. My six year old said, “Really? Crying is OK?” I told him that crying is a really great way to get all your yucky feelings out and mommy always feels better after a good cry.

Well that was it – both of them started to cry. The six year old was saying daddy, daddy, daddy over and over and the four year old was just crying. This went on for about a minute until they looked at each other. Then the crying went up a notch and it turned into wailing. Then it became who could wail louder and with more hysteria. They were both now fake crying of course and really doing an Oscar performance. They would leave the room to look into the mirror to see how good their crying face was. This went on for far too long. How could I stop them from crying after I told them a good cry was healthy?

I just sat there watching them thinking this is pathetic. I was really cursing you out in my head for all it was worth. I really hated you. If you were standing in front of me I would have punched you in the face. Here are two amazing, beautiful children making themselves hysterical from the loss of their father and it didn’t have to be this way. All I kept thinking was that you did this to us. I f*cking hate you because – you DID this! What should have been a nice quiet November evening was now a nightmare of epic proportion. We should have been laughing, talking about our day, thinking about the holidays coming up, anything but this. Instead your four and six year old babies are morning your loss and it didn’t have to be this way. Tonight I really f*cking hate you!

Then my four year old asked if she was going to get a new daddy. I said no, not right now. She started to cry again. So I said yes, she could get a new daddy. She started to cry harder. I asked her what the right answer was – she just cried. My six year old then told me he had a dream that he got a new daddy with a mustache.

Tonight I really hate you even though I really love you too.

Tomorrow night we are reading Dr. Seuss.